Gray Night

by Gregory Colt

  “Yes sir,” he said. “Anything I should tell them?”

  I thought about it for a minute.

  “Yeah. Call them back with a list of supplies they should bring. Flashlights, walkie-talkies if anyone has them, otherwise keep your cell phones on hand and stay in constant communication. Maps of the area, if you can manage. If not, draw some, and mark off the buildings so no one is going over the same ground twice. Everyone gets organized in groups of three or four at the least. Call in everybody at the first sign of trouble. And lots of damned bright flashlights.”

  “You got that right,” he said, dialing his friends and getting the word out.

  “All right. Looks like we’re meeting at the diner and going from there,” said Brandon after a minute.

  “That’s good. I need to get my car,” I said.

  Brandon nodded and we headed back.

  When we got to the diner, over a dozen young men waited outside, including the three from the salvage yard earlier.

  “Okay Brandon,” I said when we got to my car. “You remember what I said to tell them? About what’s out there, to stay in large groups, and stay in contact with the others?” I asked.

  “Yes sir, Mr. Knight. And if shit goes down, put out the bat signal,” he said.

  “Hell yes you do,” I reached into my inner jacket pocket and pulled out my business. “This is the bat signal. Call immediately if you find something.”

  “Yes sir,” he said, taking the card.

  “Good luck, Brandon. You guys be careful out there tonight,” I said.

  He gave me a half grin and nodded once, before turning and jogging the rest of the way to the diner to get started. It was going to be dangerous for them out there, but I admired the hell out of a group of young men taking the initiative the way they were.

  I got in my Chevelle and headed over to see Roman Sawyer.

  The side of my neck was itching by the time I arrived. It was bloody too, but I figured it was from the shards of concrete. I mean, the man hadn’t bitten me or anything, but when I pulled in the parking lot at the shelter I took a minute to move the rear view mirror down to look. And was I relieved to see there were no bite marks or other obvious signs of me becoming the harbinger of the zombie apocalypse? Maybe, but it’s always that one time you think you don’t need to double check that gets you screwed.

  Apocalypse averted, I turned my attention back to the shelter. It was an imposing block of a building, for only being a single story. Several sections were enclosed in tall old brick walls. The building itself was brick as well, with windows guarded by sturdy bars. I noticed barred vents along the foundation when I walked to the entrance. Must have a full basement. Over to the side, in one of the sections secured by chain link instead of brick, were a couple of large white and blue vans at a loading dock.

  I went inside to the lobby. There were bland floral pictures, some chairs, several fake plants, and a reception desk complete with receptionist. As far as shelters go, it was nice.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the lady in the pantsuit behind the desk asked with a smile.

  “Yes, hello,” I said, pulling out my picture of Ruby and placing it on the desk. “Do you know this girl?”

  Like I said before. Subtle.

  “Yes, of course I know her. Ruby Jordan. She volunteers here sometimes. Her brother Thomas was by asking, and that boyfriend of hers too,” she said, pointing to a bulletin board hanging between a fake plant and a framed degree of somekind. It had another one of the posters Thomas had made.

  “Will you be wanting to see Mr. Sawyer then as well?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you. And, if you don’t mind my asking, where is everyone?” I asked.

  “Oh, most of our guests spend their time in the main hall with the cafeteria. It is the largest room in the building after all. We don’t leave it wide open from the entrance. It’s for their safety as much as ours,” she said, picking up the phone to, I assume, call Roman Sawyer.

  “Doesn’t that place you in a dangerous position?” I asked.

  She grinned, and pointed to two sets of cameras along the ceiling, then to the mirror on the side wall.

  I walked over to the mirror to investigate. I’m not as much of a stranger to one-way mirrors as I would like to be. Therefore, I did the only thing one does when confronted with such a thing. I made a face like a five year old and tapped the glass.

  “Stop,” said a new voice behind me.

  I turned and saw a tall middle-aged man standing in one of the now open doorways, scowling like my middle school principal.

  “Mr. Sawyer this is—I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t get your name,” the lady at the desk said.

  “Adrian Knight,” I said, going over and offering my business card.

  Sawyer took it and looked at the receptionist.

  “I’m sorry, sir, he says he’s here about Ruby,” she said.

  Sawyer faced me and read the card.

  “Yes, we’re worried. She’s never taken off before,” he said, shaking his head. “And how is it you know Ruby?”

  “Friend of the family, you could say. I know Brandon and Thomas already came by, but I wanted to double-check everything myself. You understand,” I said, smiling.

  “Of course. Yes. Forgive me for that introduction. The gentleman behind the glass does not like being disturbed. Please, we’re still serving dinner and I was on my way in. Will you join me, Mr. Knight?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” I said, following him back through the door and down a short hallway. “Interesting setup you have here Mr. Sawyer.”

  “Well, it wasn’t always this nice, that’s for sure. However, we’ve been lucky with generous donations, and with the deteriorating conditions of the neighborhoods in this area, we wanted to invest in upgrading the facility. Both to make it more desirable to be here, and also to increase various security measures. Shelters can be as, if not more, dangerous for people than being on the streets. We don’t tolerate that here and want to foster a calm environment. Someplace they want to be. Someplace they can go out and tell their friends about,” he said, opening the double doors to the cafeteria.

  It was a large, open room with a tray line at one end and dozens of fold down bench tables. There were a hundred people eating at the tables, or reading, or sleeping on cots along the wall.

  We got in line and Roman pointed out what was best, leaving me with a tray of meatloaf and a mysterious three-bean salad. Once again, I lamented the loss of Jabari’s BBQ.

  He got our drinks and we sat, eating in silence for the first few minutes.

  “So, Ruby volunteered here?” I prompted.

  He took a drink and nodded.

  “Yes she does. Maybe, I don’t know, six or seven months or so. Good kid. Always looking out for the young ones and trying to help the older women. It’s such a shame,” he said.

  “You sound like maybe you think she ran away from everyone?” I asked.

  “Many of the younger women do. Most, in fact. None of the girls who were here when Ruby first came are here now. They go back to work on the street. Some start dealing. Most of them have their whole lives revolve around that lifestyle. Their families and friends are still in it, and they miss it. They don’t know any other way. Some don’t even think they deserve any better. A terrible shame,” he said.

  “Yeah, but Ruby’s life isn’t like that. She has Brandon and Thomas,” I said.

  “She was a prostitute. Her best friend was a prostitute. Brandon is some local boy. They all have some local boy or three around. All she had was Thomas. A young boy who took all of her time and all of her money. She was a mother in all but name, and don’t even think to tell me that she did in fact love him like a mother, and no mother would ever abandon their child, because ninety percent of everyone in this room wouldn’t be here right now if that were true,” he said. “So, yes. I think she ran away. And for her sake, I hope she made it as far away as possible,” he said, taking another drink.


  I couldn’t argue with that. But, after getting to know Brandon and Thomas, there was no way she abandoned them without a word.

  “So all those girls you said ran away?” I asked.

  “Yes?”

  “How sure are you they all ran?”

  “I’m sure. Most everybody here knows everyone else. People talk.”

  “They ever talk about what goes on around here at night?”

  He stopped and put his fork down.

  “Well, of course we hear stories. There’s no doubt the streets are getting worse. It’s why I’m here. But if you want to share monster tales you’ll have to come back for our Halloween party,” he said.

  Man, my head hurt. I pinched the bridge of my nose and rubbed my temples and between my eyes. It didn’t help.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Knight?” Mr. Sawyer asked.

  “Yes. Fine, thank you. Headache is all. I still have some questions,” I said.

  “Of course you do, Mr. Knight. By all means continue,” he said.

  “Is that your degree on the wall. The one in the lobby?”

  “It is. Chemistry. But I believe you are wasting your time here.”

  “I am? Why would you say that?” I asked. My head pounded.

  “I can’t tell you anything that I haven’t already said to both Thomas and Brandon,” he said.

  “Yes. I mean, I know that. But I wanted to check—” Gremlins were mining in my head. With jackhammers. And lightning.

  “You needed to see for yourself. Of course, I understand. And so you have. But surely there are other things you are neglecting by being here. Very important things,” he admonished.

  He was right. This was a waste of time, and I’d left Claire all alone. There was nothing more I could do here. I needed to get back to Nick’s office.

  “You… may have a point. With some of that… Mr. Sawyer. I need… if you will excuse me… get back to Claire… at the office,” I managed to say. It took most of my focus to stand.

  I stumbled out into the parking lot. I don’t remember how I got there from the cafeteria, but it didn’t matter. I needed to get to Claire.

  I was able to unlock my car door and get in, with intense concentration. I started the engine, put her in gear, and—my heart stopped as I looked in the rear view and stared into the amber eyes of a beautiful little thirteen-year-old girl with long hair the color of honey in twilight.

  I tore my eyes away and slammed them shut, tight as I could. No, no, no, no, this was not happening. It wasn’t. It wasn’t real.

  “It can’t be,” I heard myself say out loud. “It can’t be. It can’t. You. Are. Dead.”

  She laughed at me, giggling like a small child. “She’s dead,” I said, my vision blurry and wet.

  I opened my eyes without looking behind and grabbed the stick shift so hard the cap on the handle came off in my hand. It felt wrong. Sticky. I looked down and was holding a large uncut diamond covered in blood.

  I grabbed for the knob to unroll the window and couldn’t keep hold of it. I opened the door, got out, and pulled my arm back to throw the bloody diamond as far as I could when the shelter exploded in a ball of fire. Except it wasn’t the shelter. It was a mining compound, a concrete fortress, burning in the jungle. The smoke was choking me and I dropped the diamond. I fell back into the driver’s seat, bringing the door closed with me, and slammed the accelerator down. I couldn’t breathe again until I was on the highway.

  A minute later, I pulled to the curb outside Nick’s office building. No, that wasn’t right. I was half an hour north. I…I didn’t remember driving back. But it didn’t matter. I was here. Everything was okay. I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. This was where I needed to be. Come on. Focus Adrian.

  I got out and walked to the front of the building and heard a door slide shut. I mean, I remember getting out of the car, looking around and seeing some vehicle parked a ways behind me on the curb. Then I was standing at the doors fumbling with my keys to the lobby. I spun around at the sound and behind me stood four men. Three of them were large and dressed alike. The fourth man was smaller and nondescript, looking totally out of place. That was weird. I said so out loud and looked around wondering what else I’d see, trying to separate what was real and what wasn’t. The van I thought I’d seen down the street wasn’t there. It was parked up the street, well in front of me. When did that happen? Had it happened?

  The average looking fourth man hissed at the triplets.

  “Kill him! And get inside the building. There may be another with him inside. A woman. Find her!”

  I’d never had a psychotic episode deal so directly with present events. I noticed how pale the triplets were at the exact same time. Two of the large men had sores on their necks and arms, like the flesh was peeling back and rotting. It was familiar in a way I didn’t want to think about.

  They took their first step forward and I sighed. There was no freaking way my luck was that bad.

  Chapter Ten

  I couldn’t fight all three, hell, maybe not even one, but I was all that stood between them and Claire. Fuck it.

  I drew my pistol. Which had no effect whatsoever, as it was lying on the floor of an abandoned building in the Bronx.

  “Well, this is awkward,” I said to no one in particular.

  The fourth man smirked.

  “Keys, Mr. Knight,” he said.

  I couldn’t let any of them get inside first. Which meant not dying outside. I needed a distraction, some way to warn Claire.

  The fourth man told one of the triplets to get my keys. I didn’t like the way that sounded at all, so I tossed them to the big guy.

  “Open the door,” the fourth man ordered.

  The big guy with my keys went to the door and I caught the scent of smoke again. Not now! Think Adrian. You need to get in. But I couldn’t think of any way to get around, much less through, that guy.

  The big guy fumbled with the lock. He tried jamming each key into the lock until he dropped them on the ground.

  “Move. Move, move, move!” the fourth man hollered, walking forward and grabbing the keys.

  “You two,” he pointed behind him. “Find the girl. You,” he said, pointing to the one he’d shoved to the other side of him, “You take him inside,” nodding at me.

  None of them responded.

  The fourth man looked at the keys, trying to decide which one it was.

  “Two over from the big silver Chevy one,” I offered.

  “Thanks,” he snorted.

  I was out of time.

  He leaned down and slid the key into the lock. I couldn’t have gone through the others, but this guy…I wasn’t going to get a better chance.

  I pivoted on my right foot, forcing all my weight and momentum into my left elbow that slammed into the back of his head, busting it through the glass. The force carried the two of us crashing into the lobby.

  I rolled off him and saw all three men leap through the doorway. Two of them went straight for the stairs.

  “Nooo!” I screamed, kicking myself around and scissoring the legs of the big man bearing down on me out from under him. I rolled away as he hit, then threw myself forward, grabbing the ankle of the second man going upstairs.

  One hard yank tripped him right into the stairs. I was happy to see the blow was cushioned…by his face. I crawled along the man’s back and smashed my knee down into the back of his head when he tried to raise it, crushing his face into the corner of the steps as he howled in pain.

  I jumped to my feet and ran up the stairs as fast as I could, praying I wasn’t too late.

  * * * *

  I stretched for a minute after finishing the last phone call of the evening. When I was done I realized the only thing left was to face my feelings lurking on the other side of the wall I had spent the day building. A wall that had started to crumble with the setting sun.

  The building had emptied and Abner left maybe an hour ago, leaving me all alone. Part of me wondered if I
wasn’t the only person on the entire block, but the universe hates a void so the building itself did its best to fill it with creaks and groans that became so intolerable I walked behind the desk and opened the window. Anything to add some sounds of life. What was I even still doing here? Waiting for Knight?

  I pulled my phone out to call a cab when I heard it through the open window behind me. The sound of glass shattering, muffled and distant. It could have come from several blocks away. Could have come from anywhere. Somebody dropping something outside or some teenagers throwing rocks through a window. Then the building grew quiet and the distinct feeling of being all alone vanished.

  I set my phone on the desk and opened the top drawer, taking out the .38. Could it be Adrian? What was that breaking glass?

  I tried to think of the most realistic situation that could be going on, like maybe a street-wide outbreak of happy, fluffy bunnies, when heavy footsteps hammered up the stairs. I repeated to myself again it could be Adrian.

  Whoever it was reached the fourth floor. Footsteps moved along the hall that kept stopping, and door handles rattled before moving on. It wasn’t him. Had I locked the door when I came in? What would they do if they found a door that opened? Not to mention who ‘they’ was? I knelt down behind the desk and rested the revolver on top to keep it from shaking so much.

  The footsteps paused in front of the office door and my heart rate doubled. The knob turned—make that tripled—then stopped and tried turning again. It was locked.

  I sighed in relief as whoever-it-was moved down the hall to the next door, when Nightwish blared in a ringtone from my phone, lighting up and buzzing across the desk.

  No, no, no! I grabbed it and squeezed all the buttons at once, shutting off the ringer, then threw it in my purse. It didn’t matter. Whoever was out there heard it and turned back to the door, trying the handle again, much harder this time. My heart tried to tear free of my chest.

  “Ha!” yelled someone else as the hall lights came on, showing two shadowy figures through the blinds on the window and door. The larger one at the door turned to face the one that had spoken.